


All Was Well

by femmedefoi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmedefoi/pseuds/femmedefoi
Summary: The war is over, so where are Harry and Ginny now? Harry's finally settled into a position that's made for him, and Ginny is thriving as a chaser. Life is normal. Life is good. All is well. A one (maybe two) shot on where Harry and Ginny are post-war, inspired by a tumblr post and its responses.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	All Was Well

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this idea originated on tumblr and showed up when I was looking for good OTP prompts. Harry and Ginny are far from being my OTP, but I do love that they’re…I dunno, classic? Anyhow, I enjoy their characters well enough, but I rarely write for either of them. I found this idea (the long and short of it was “Why did JKR make Harry an auror after writing OOtP and making it obvious that he would’ve been amazing as a DADA teacher?”) and fell in love with it. So here’s me writing a one/maybe two-shot about Harry and Ginny post-war. (I say maybe two, because I found a prompt that was more Ginny-centric that I also liked that I might also write in a similar structure).
> 
> As always, I own absolutely nothing.

Harry Potter was, among other things, tired. He was also “The Boy Who Lived,” the “Chosen One,” the so-called “Savior of the Wizarding World,” an accomplished auror, husband to Ginny Weasley, and a damn good seeker, but most people got caught up in one of those first three epithets. As it was, he was coincidentally most tired of the baggage that came as a side-effect of carrying those three titles and had done nearly everything in his power to neutralize any further mentions of the war after leaving Hogwarts.

Upon his and Ginny’s graduation, the two were quickly married, to the delight of Mrs. Weasley, who tearily reminded him at least 12 times at the reception that he could call her “Mum” now, and it would be proper. Within the year, Ginny had landed a position on the Holyhead Harpies and the two moved into a neat flat near Diagon Alley to accommodate her training schedule. As Ginny spent hours dueling the elements and dodging bludgers, her husband was dueling and dodging fellow aurors, despite Kingsley’s admission that he had trained more than enough for the position. By the end of the three-year training period, Harry was proudly heralded into the new class of aurors, and Ginny was widely considered to be a Quidditch star.

For about two years, things were perfect. And then the Malfoy case came in. Loath as Harry was to admit he liked Draco Malfoy, he certainly didn’t wish him harm. But when the grief-stricken 23-year-old came in to report the kidnapping of his daughter, the auror team immediately jumped into action, none more fervently than Harry, whose wife had recently announced her pregnancy and settled at home for the beginning of maternity leave. The Malfoy child was found within the month, murdered and abandoned in a derelict building, accompanied by a note warning “Death Eater scum will never change, they deserve to know what it feels like to have their loved ones ripped from them.”

Harry couldn’t stay, not after that. His Gryffindor pride had fueled much of his anger towards Malfoy while they were schoolboys, but to torture him for his past mistakes? To attack his family with such blind intolerance? It was unforgiveable, and Harry found himself working odd hours and late nights in an attempt to catch the culprit and administer justice. As the team drew closer to the suspect, Harry drafted a letter to Kingsley and sent the envelope to the Ministerial desk late one evening, knowing that the older man would understand. Two weeks later, Harry James Potter was no longer an auror.

* * *

To this day, Harry will say Ginny forced him into the position. After his early retirement from the auror office, Ginny dropped hints that it would be nice for their children to have a stay-at-home parent, and Harry eagerly took on the role. For the first six months after the birth of James, he learned “more about cooking, cleaning, and childcare than he had ever wanted to know” he would say with his son in his arms and a gentle smile on his face to friends when they would stop by.

After six months, however, Ginny decided it was time for a change. Coming home from practice one day, she called her husband’s name and stood in the doorway with her arms crossed stubbornly, waiting for him to arrive and explain the unrolled parchment on the counter. The letter was, as we all now know, an invitation from Minerva McGonagall, now Headmistress of Hogwarts. Specifically, an invitation to teach. It was dated a month previously, and had clearly been folded, pocketed, unfolded, and reviewed many times since. And here it sat, out in the open, for Ginny to discover it.

Harry posited a great many excuses to his wife that day about all of the reasons he’d be a terrible professor. Combatting all of his attempts to decline the position, Ginny pointedly claimed that his reticence to take the job didn’t mean he’d be a bad teacher, did he not recall Remus, the man he himself claimed was the best Defense professor they’d ever had? Harry paused at the comment and relented to visit Hogwarts out of polite consideration to the Headmistress.

Ginny, of course, knew that the moment he walked back through the doors, Harry would agree to the position. As did Minerva McGonagall. Thus, when she received Harry’s acceptance to her invitation, Minerva began making preparations for him to live at the castle. Over warm tea and ginger biscuits, the Headmistress explained the current state of affairs—the previous professor was competent in the knowledge of the material, but lacked strong teaching experience, and she worried that the new generation of students would be ill-prepared for live outside of Hogwarts’ walls. Her explanation was carefully crafted for the young man who sat across from her, as she gave details ranging from classroom bullies to the dangers that still roamed beyond the castle grounds. Some would say her pitch was nearly Slytherin in its level of manipulation, however it served the intended purpose well, as Harry Potter became the youngest Defense professor that Hogwarts had ever seen, at the age of 24.

* * *

Ginny was thrilled to move into the Professor’s quarters with her husband, and even more delighted to discover that the Headmistress’ master plan involved him becoming the Head of Gryffindor by the next term. Her husband had finally come into his own after leaving the auror office, she noted later in discussions with Hermione, Angelina and Luna. Oh yes, his strength and magical prowess were still evident, but for the first time in his life, Harry wasn’t fighting anyone, and Ginny, for one, was happy to see him fall into a pattern of normalcy and contentment.

His first year was a hit. He quickly became a favorite of the younger students, having been given only the first four years of students to coach. His firm yet encouraging demeanor led to soaring marks across the board, and had students thrilled to show up to class every week. Of course, he was still a professor, and thus it should come as no surprise that if one were to eavesdrop on conversations in the corridors, inevitably a second or third year student would complain that “Professor Potter really didn’t need to give us 12 inches on the wand movements for these spells, did he?” By and large, however, Harry was well-loved by staff and students alike.

After a year of covering the younger classes, his responsibilities expanded to the older students, and it was at this point that he fell thoroughly in love with his job. Harry enjoyed teaching the first years—their bright-eyed, optimistic faces looked up at him in disbelief when he talked about pixies, vampires, and the spellwork for the year, and their awed grins as he demonstrated his stag patronus made his heart swell—but the older students were the ones that challenged him, that reminded him of his time in the Room of Requirement with the D.A., of Hogsmeade weekends, Quidditch rivalries, and snowball fights with his friends in the courtyard.

In short, Harry loved his job. He easily settled into his role, adopting soft sweaters and other muggle clothing as his daily uniform, perpetually walking into class a minute late with a warm mug of tea levitating in front of him, and being well-known for having the best stocked drawer of chocolate out of all Hogwarts professors. He had gotten used to the awestruck first years’ stares that slowly melted into expressions of respect and interest, but after his fourth year of teaching, a surprise awaited him.

Students began entering Hogwarts whose parents were students with him. An Emily Abbott was sorted into Hufflepuff and Harry smiled at the similarities between her and her mother. A new set of Patil twins ended up in Ravenclaw, and Harry cringed remembering a Yule Ball when he was 14. Always a believer in fairness, Harry endeavored to treat each student as any other, knowing the feeling of being seen for accomplishments or names that held little weight to him. In doing so, he sought to behave as any other professor would, and was delighted to hear from students in his house that despite the numerous questions levied by their parents, the most common response was to say “who CARES if he killed Voldemort, Professor Potter assigned homework over the break!”

* * *

Harry enjoyed sitting in on staff meetings and discussing curriculum ideas, clubs, and student activities, but winced the first time he overheard Professor Binns mentioning that fifth year students would now be educated on the Second Wizarding War.

After a few days, he warmed to the idea, but not before sulking a fair amount first. Hermione and Ron sent—let’s be honest, Hermione wrote and Ron signed—him a letter urging him to be open to the idea. It was good for the children to understand the past so they wouldn’t be doomed to repeat it. Harry had let out a low growl as he read the letter, tossing it onto his wife’s lap and heading to their bedroom after he had finished reading.

A hushed conversation ensued that night, full of plenty of “I know, Gin, it’s just that…” and “But Harry, think of the…” Eventually, Harry acquiesced to Professor Binns’ suggestion. The first day that the fifth years were given a lecture on it, Harry spent all morning in a state of disarray. Late (even more so than usual) to each class, “Professor Potter” gave no homework and let all of his younger classes out early.

As he walked in (late) to his class of fifth years, the room went silent. Wordlessly, Harry levitated his desk chair to the front of the classroom and flipped it around, back of the wooden seat facing away the students. Sitting down with one ankle propped on his knee, Harry took a sip of his tea and surveyed the class silently before sighing, seemingly annoyed. “Well,” he said, conjuring a side-table to place his teacup upon, “who’s first?”

And so went every May, year after year. His younger students would come to him with their usual complaints about assignment length, spell difficulty, or technique, while his older students hit him with hard questions about the Battle, his time searching for horcruxes, and what it was like to come face-to-face with Voldemort.

He grew used to it over time, as Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all said he would. At the end of each year, a few students would choose to send him letters depicting experiences with their parents—who usually asked, according to his students, a million questions about him, which usually garnered responses such as “Merlin, I don’t know! Potter’s a massive dork, you should hear him go off about proper wand movements and technique.” Harry smiled fondly at those letters, glad to know some of his students enjoyed his class. Having been deprived of such experiences himself, he vowed early on to respond to all letters from students. Ginny had spent many a night with her head in her husband’s lap as he gently stroked one hand through her hair, the other scribbling away a response to a third-year student asking about their Patronus.

Harry did, however, have other favorite parts of his job. One day while walking down a relatively empty section of the castle, he heard footsteps quickly approaching. Prepared to take points from a student for running in the corridor. Instead, he was halted by a very small boy, no older than 11, with an unruly mop of light brown hair. The boy, according to his robes, was a Hufflepuff, but before Harry could ask him for his destination, the boy looked up at him and gently tugged on the sleeve of his robe.

“Mr. Potter sir, I mean, Professor Potter, is it true that you’re—" Harry cringed, expecting the worst, “—Married to Weasley from the Holyhead Harpies? She’s such a wicked chaser! What’s she like?” Stunned, Harry blinked a few times to clear his head.

“Did you just ask me if I’m Ginny Weasley’s husband?” he said quietly, a smile blooming on his face. The boy nodded. “I am indeed, and she’s positively brilliant. Did you know she…” Harry began as he led the boy towards his office to offer him some chocolate and regale him with stories of his wife. Hufflepuff was awarded 100 points that day, although no one in the house could identify what for. A mousy 11-year-old smiled a little when he saw the counter at dinner that night, and grinned even further when his Defense professor caught his eye and sent him a wink.

Harry Potter was, among other things, content. He was also “The Boy Who Lived,” the “Chosen One,” the so-called “Savior of the Wizarding World,” an accomplished auror, husband to Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts’ longest serving Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in years, Head of Gryffindor House, and a damn good seeker, but most people got caught up in one of those first three epithets. As it was, he was coincidentally most content with the joys and responsibilities that came with those last four titles, and had done nearly everything in his power to maintain the calmness curated since the war. His loved ones were safe, his life was perfectly normal. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> We did it! I’m actually a bit proud of this one. It’s short and sweet and fluffy and made my heart smile a bit. (This was also written on a train after seeing Cursed Child, so admittedly I also felt like I was in my JKR stride hahaha). Let me know what you think in the reviews, if you loved/hated it, want to see the second chapter I had considered (focused on Ginny’s career), wished I would’ve written something like this about Hermione and Fred, etc. Constructive feedback is always welcome! As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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